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BOOK 

of 

SONGS 




Written by 
A Blind Man 



Copyrjglif, 1918 



NOV 27 \m 



"They are never alone that are accompanied 

with noble thoughts, "--^ir P. Sidney. 



Original Compositions 
Songs, Hymns and Poems 



Written by 

MR. JOHN J. DOOLEY 

849 Dwight St. 

HOLYOKE, MASS. 

1916 



CONTENTS 



Page 

A Crazy Suffragette 13 

A Farevt^ell to Erin 5 

A Little Town in Ireland 3 

A Ranting Roving Laddie 6 

Belgium's Appeal 15 

Brown's Resurrection or The Drunk- 
ard's Dre'am 9 

Christmas Time 13 

Civilization 3 

Darling Norine 11 

Down in Old Mexico 7 

Down with Germany 11 

Equal Suffrage 2 

Faithful and True 6 

Hard Times 5 

I Am Calling, Dear Saviour, to Thee. 12 

I Love a Sailor in Blue 7 

I'm Going Back to Tennesee 7 

Immodesty 14 

It Is Up to You and Me 4 

I Will Meet Her When the Sun Has 

Gone to Rest 15 

Love Eternal 10 

Murder 9 

Oh Don't Forget Your Yankee Lads. 6 

Old Palestine Is Free 10 

Our Soldiers Welcome Home 6 

Passing the Bar S 



Page 

Rally to the Stars and Strijjes 5 

RoUing in the Clover 14 

She Was Only A Woman 2 

Stand By Your Guns Russian 

Soldiers 4 

Sweet Eveleen 12 

The Banks of Sweet Dundee 15 

The Brave Scot 6 

The Flying Machine 14 

The Good Ship Christian Endeavor. . 13 

The Irish Yanks 3 

The Ladies of Hell 7 

The Lassie in the Kill 11 

T'he March on Prohibition 8 

The Old Red, White and Blue 16 

The Parting Song H 

The Picture of Mother and Child 2 

The Pride of Lough-Rae 8 

The Song that Appeals to the Heart . 10 

The Sweet Game of Loving 16 

They Will Fight the Prussian Foe ... 5 

Uncle Sam is Calling 3 

We Are Britons All the Same 5 

We are Coming, Cousin Tommy 4 

We Will Keep Old Glorv Plying 4 

What Nation Are We Fighting 15 

When Ireland Gets Home Rule 14 

Where the Scotch Thistle Grows ... 12 



THE PICTURE OF MOTHER AND 
CHILD. 

There is a smile that has baffled the paint- 
ers fine arts. 
To produce it for years they have toiled. 
But that beautiful smile they have failed to 
impart 
In their picture of mother and child. 

Chorus. 

It is that smile that appears when the baby 
is born. 
It will forever remain undefiled. 
For the artist has never yet caught that s\\eet 
smile. 
In his picture of mother and child. 

It is that beautiful smile on the young moth- 
ers face. 

Fresh and fair as the flowers in the mom. 
It Is a smile that is common to every race. 

When a sweet little baby is born. 

The artistic hand on the canvas may paint 
All the splendors of woodland and sky. 

But that beautiful smile on the young moth- 
ers face. 
All painters best efforts defy. 



SHE WAS ONLY A WOMAN. 

She was only a woman who had loved and 
had los'. 
It is only the woman who must pay the 
cost. 
In a small country village she lived her 
young life. 
Far away from the city's temptation and 
strife. 
Like other young maids she was happy 
and gay. 
When a false hearted young man, hap- 
pened her way. 
He told her he loved her, she believed 
wha' he said. 
For he promised to marry this sweet coun- 
try maid. 

Refrain. 

Broken hearted and sad she is weeping. 

Grieving in sorrow alone. 
In her arms her young baby lies sleeping. 

She now has no friends and no home. 
When the baby was born she was looked 
on with scorn. 

Tho' the man who betrayed her went free. 
She was not to blame if she lost her good 

name. 
She is human just like you and me. 

She was only a woman, confiding and true. 

Loving and trusting as women will do. 
How happy was she as the months speed 
along. 
The love in her heart would burst for'h 
into song. 
Her false-hearted lover was planning to go 
And leave his young sweetheart in sorrow 
and woe, _ 

But this is a chance that a maiden must takiff^" 



She must suffer the sheime for a false lov-ft^ 



rs sake. 



K<!3'^\i.^:x'Z' 



She is onlv a woman, doomed by custom 
to fall. 

For what can she do when deserted by all. 
Former friends at her now point the finger 
of shame. 

Her only refuge, is a house of ill-fame. 
The law should make legal her innocent b^b? 

.■\nd make her the false lover's ^v^fe. 
O think of the thousands of bfautiful girls, 

Would be saved lo a clean • 'oral life. 



EQUAL SUFFRAGE. 

For centuries we were but a helpless slave 
Our life was filled with drudgery and toi'. 
We had no freedom from childhood to the 
grave. 
We bore it all with patience and a smile. 
We are working with you men now side by 
side. 
You have given us much freedom it is true. 
Our ability now cannot be denied. 

Then why should we not vote as well as 
yoii? 

Chorus. 
Oh! Why should we not vote as well as 
you? 
There is something with the ballot we 
could do ; 
Those hell-holes of the ni^ht, we could 
close them all up tight. 
If you will only let us vole along with you. 

It is we, who teach your children in the 
school. 
We train the boys and girls throughout 
this land. 
When in sickness or in trouble as a rule, 
1 1 IS a woman by your side will bravely 
stand. 
When we assume the duties of a wife. 
We lake care of your home and children 
too. 
With us you form a partnership for life. 
Then why should we not vote as well 
as you? 

We are working in the office and the mill. 
We have entered every branch of business 
life. 
There are a few positions now we do not fill. 

Though we prefer to be a loving wife. 
In literature and art we have gained fame. 
We are doctors, and have lawyers qui'e 
a few. 
Then why should v^e not Equal Suffrage 
claim ? 
We want the right to vole as well as you. 
We would close the bar, the brewery, and 
the still. 
It is we, who suffer most from this great 
curse. 
While you drinking men the brewer's pock- 
e's fill. 
You leave your loving wives a scanty 
purse. 
We appeal to a!) you men of sober mind 
Who have mother's and have wives and 
sisters . too. 
We are sure to them you would not prove 
unkind. 
Then why not let them vote along with 

ci.AJ)(i8H6;. y°"- 



A LITTLE TOWN LN IREJ_AND. 

As I stag for Toa tooight. 

Food utetMortes bmig tketr Sig&t 
To a lini« towB ia Ireland far awaj. 

To mj borne and old frieads. 
Its green moaatain. streans and glexis. 

And die hfgipy liovrs I ip«&t in old 
Lni^Rae. 
Ckorvs. 
^liea die Quistaaas tine ciaaij i \Mm\. 

Widi its neny jajhal samiil. 
Mj Bemoiy wanders back to old Loa^Rae, 

For DO matter wiiere I roa^ 
I will aways dunk of botne 

And mv friends in dear old Ireland far 
away. 

I long to at once more. 

Beside my fathers cottage door. 
^Tiere I watched the little children while 
at play. 
And on the jaunting car to ride 
AX'ith my Mary by my side. 

-As when fir^ she was my Bride in old 
Loagfa-Rae. 



CIVIUZATION. 

"The pen is mightier than the sword." 
^Tien guided by a master-mind. 

But when a fool that pen shall guide. 
The sword, his master he will nnd. 

When primitive man roamed the forest wild. 

His mind was like that of a playful child. 
His wants were few and ready to his hand. 

He avoided what he did not understand. 

Now this man is civilized 

.And wonderful the things he has devised. 
He dives beneath the waters, soars into the 

. '^•. : 

In spite of bis ingenuity he must prepare 
to die. 

"There is no God," the .Atheist loudly cries. 
Your Holy Bible is replete v\-ith lies 

It appeals not to my reasoning mind 
The truth there- in is difficult to hnd. 

"O. but there is a God". 

The Christian meekly sighs: 
"Tho' wicked men His Holy book despise. 

It is the work of inspired minds 
And within its pages sinners comfort find. 

The great .Agnostic then replies: 

"The mystery of life the human mind 
defies. 
How wise we would be, if we could only 
know. 
From whence came we, and whither we 
shall go. 

The greed for wealth and power 
Has filled the world with strife, 

PonHffs, Kings and Emporers 
Care not for human life. 

They claim to rule by a right Divine, 
So upon their thrones 

Mere man may not design. 

Many Prophets came to save the world 
from sin. 



Bit III iB^i ai it 
The wocU penab Jinria. 

Camakm Jwaiaaili for die IMii haw Aed 
Ami julixB Sw i uMi kave becB ovdfced. 

Tlie wiiU ladaj if MI of i^ avl ^taifte 
Awl waahMi ueViwtw o* !■■■■■ ate, 

Tbe Oui^iaB aaliniw are at war agaia. 
What does it aeaa 

Has JcsBS died ia vaia? 



Give 



diort 



Tliy power. O God. f 
day 

AD anery aad strife woaM pass away 
To Bake die wliole w«wU luppy. 

Woald be my plan, 

I woald coapel afl mea 

To love their fellow 



THE IRISH Y.ANKS. 

I diink it is a downright shame 

The w-ay some people change tbeir amae. 
NIv father's name is good raoidi for me. 

They are a lot of Irish cr^iks 
^^Tio a^ire to be real Yanks; 
From their good old Irish aaaies 

They stok die D. 

Chorus. 

There are the \\'ooleys. the Hooleys* 

The Cooleys and the Pooleys: 
They want to be real Yankees. 

So they changed their Irish name. 

They cannot deny their race. 
Th= Taafi of Irelamd's on their face. 

Like "^'ours Truly** they are Docley all 
the same. 

I would take a solemn oath. 

Thr-y were no Irish on that bsat. 
That brought the Pilgrim Fathers to this ^lore. 

I* was a long time after that. 
Before the arrival of Poor Pat. 

Notwithstanding we have Irish-^'anks ga- 
lore. 



UNCLE S.AM IS CALLING. 

^X'c did not want to go to war. but if fight- 
ing we must do ; 
Our Battleships are ready and we'll raise 
cm army too. 
And before this w^r is over, we will make 
the Kaiser Rue. 
For old Lncle Sam will show him what 
our "^ ankee boys can do. 

Chorus. 

O'd Uncle Sam is calling, calling me amd you. 

To rally to the stars amd stripes, the old 

red, white, and blue. 

He wemts us in his mvy and in his army too. 

He is going to show those Prussians what 

our ^ ankee boys cam do. 

With poisoned gas and liquid flame, they 
they thought to %v-in the day. 
But the British French and the Russians, 
have blocked them on their way. 
They called on us to help them, the enemy 
to subdue ; 
So old Uncle Seun will show them what 
our ^ ankee bovs can do. 



I WILL KEEP OLD GLORY FLING. 

With others he must fall. 
My darling boy, my pride and joy 

Has heard his country's call. 
Beneath the dear old stars and stripes. 

With others he may fall. 
In this great fight 

For freedom's right, 

He will bear an honored name; 

I will keep the Old Glory flying 
'Till my boy comes home again. 

Chorus. 

I will keep Old Glory flying 

'Till my boy comes home again. 
The stormy winds defying. 

In the sunshine, snow and rain. 
It may be faded, worn and tattered. 

Proudly waving in his name; 
I will keep Old Glory flying 

'Till my boy comes home again. 

I have draped with flags his picture. 

That hangs upon the wall; 
My pride is all the richer, 

That he answered to the call. 
Far away from we that love him. 

In our hearts he will remain. 
I will keep Old Glory flying 

'Till my boy comes home aain. 

I will keep Old Glory flying. 

All you mother's do the same; 
If your boy has joined the colors. 

Hang a flag out in his name. 
And to those who seek exemption. 

It may bring a blush of shame. 
If we keep Old Glory flying 

'Till our boys come home again. 



STAND BY YOUR GUNS RUSSIAN 
SOLDIERS. 

Back to the front every Russian, 

Show the world you fear not the foe. 
Do you want to be ruled by a Prussian? 

Ah! Surely a thousand times no. 
Back to your trench every Russian, 

Lithuanian, brave Cossack and Pole; 
Drive back the conquest-mad Prussian, 

Let victory be your proud goal. 

Stand by your guns Russian Soldiers, 

Keep your bright star of freedom aglow; 
Steadily should to shoulder. 

If you would conquer your foe; 
(f you cherish your newly won freedom. 

Fight for your loved ones and home, 
forward! Then brave Russian soldiers 

Drive the Prussians from Germany's throne. 

Back to the front every Russian, 

Your women have shown you the way ; 
They faced the big guns of the Prussian, 

How bravely they fought on that day. 
Back to your trench every Russian, 

That your friends and the whole world 
may know. 
You will fight to defend that sweet freedom. 

You won but a short time ago. 



WE ARE COMING COUSIN TOMMY. 

We are coming cousin Tommy, 

From across the stormy sea ; 
We are just plain Yankee Soldiers, 

From the dear land of the Free. 
We will fight with you in battle, 

'Till victory is won. 
There will be no Prussian Kaiser — 

When the bloody war is done. 

We are coming cousin Tommy, 

Coming good and strong ; 
And if you need more soldiers. 

Millions more will come aiong. 
We will help you cousin Tommy, 

To spike every German gun. 
There will me no Prussian Kaiser 

When the boody work is done. 

We are coming cousin Tommy, 

Men of every race and creed; 
We are Uncle Sammy's soldiers. 

We are freedom's friend in need. 
We are going to keep on fighting 

'Till we conquer every Hun, 
There will be no Prussian Kaiser, 

When the bloody work is done. 

We are coming cousin Tommy, 

And before we sail back home; 
There be no Emperor William, 

Sitting on the German throne. 
If he is wise, he will realize 

That his royal race is run. 
There will be no Prussian Kaiser 

When the bloody work is done. 



IT IS UP TO YOU AND ME. 

The Germans would wage war upon this 
■ nation, 
They deny 'our right to navigate the sea, 
We claim the right to trade with all creation 

No matter what their race or color be. 
They sank our merchant ships without a 
warning. 
Our citizens have perished in the sea; 
The friendship of this nation they are 
scorning. 
Shall we fight them? It is up to you and 
me. 

Chorus. 
We will send our battle fleet across the ocean, 
We will send our yankee army o'er the sea. 
In this crisis let us show a true devotion, 

To the flag that has befriended you an me; 
It matter not what country we came from, 

If we love our homes in this land of thefree. 
We will rally every man to the call of Uncle 
Sam, 
And defend that dear old flag of Liberty. 

We have always been a peaceful loving na- 
tion. 
We have welcomed all who landed on our 
shores ; 
For war we made no special preparation. 
We would defend our rights and nothing 
more. 
Shall we allow those Germans to defy us? 

Insult our flag and sink our ships at sea? 
The fredom of the ocean they deny us; 
Shall we fight them? It is up to you and 
me. 



I 



THEY WILL FIGHT THE PRUSSIAN 
FOE. 

The call to arms is ringing, throughout this 

mighty land ; 
And once agam our soldier boys, beneath 

Old Glory stand, 
With tears and sighs, and last good-byes, 

off to the war they go. 
They are going across the deep blue sea, to 

help to set poor Belgium free. 
With the battle cry of liberty, they will 

fight the Prussian foe. 
They will rally to Old Glory the flag of the 

brave and the free. 
It has never yet been conquered on the land 

or on the sea; 
We respect the German people, they are not 

to blame we know. 
Our sailors and our soldier boys will give the 

Kaiser some surprise ; 
With the battle cry of liberty, they will figh' 

the Prussian foe. 

RALLY TO THE STARS AND 
STRIPES. 

For forty years those Prussians had planned 
this bloody fight. 
They set aside their treaties, and ignored 
all sense of right. 
They made war upon women and childern, 
they sank our ships at sea; 
While our flag flies high, we will fight and 
die 
For America the land of the free. 

Chorus. 
We will rally to the stars and stripes where- 
ever we may be. 
We will fight b3neath that banner on the 
land and on the sea. 
Our Yankee boys are ready when they hear 
their country's call ; 
Ready for thfe fight when they know it is 
right, 
And for freedom stand or fall. 
Those monuments of ancient art, which have 
stood the test of time. 
Were ruthlessly demolished by those cow- 
ards from the Rhine, 
With flying machines and submarines, they 
would drive us of the sea; 
While our flag flies high, we will fight and 
die. 
For America the land of the free. 

HARD TIMES. 

The rich are growing richer at the expense 
of the poor. 
The spectre of starvation hovers near the 
workmans door; 
High prices and taxation causing wan* -ind 
privation. 
The oldest person in the nation, 
Never saw such times before. 

Chorus. 
There is the marke!man and baker. 

The tailor and shoemaker. 
When he pays them what he owes them. 

Not one dollar can he save; 
From the milkman to the Preacher, 

All are living off this creature; 
His life is one long struggle. 

From his childhood to his grave. 



The manufacturer and the wholesaler. 

The jobber and retailer, 
On the patient toiling masses. 

They play their selfish game. 
When the master he engages. 

To raise his workman's wages. 
The landlords and the dealers, 

Boost their prices up again. 

When tthe workman shall awaken. 

This country will be shaken 
By the greates* revolution. 

This world has ever known ; 
When hungry enraged labor 

Takes up the gun and saber. 
No mercy and no favor. 

To the grafter shall be shown. 



WE ARE BRITONS ALL THE SAME. 

We are Britons all, when we heard her call. 

As it rang o'er the land and sea. 
We know that if her flag should fall. 

No country would be free, 
A mighty throng five million strong 

From many lands we came. 
What ma*ter our breed, race color or creed. 

We are Britons all the same. 
Chorus. 
We are Britons all the same 

And we glory in her fame, 
We will fight for her whereever the old flr.g 
waves. 

Onward we will go 'till we conquor free- 
dom's foe — , 
For we Britons never, never shall b-; slaves. 

We are Britons all, and though many m^ ' 
fall 

Before the fire of the enemies gun. 
Brave and strong we shall still fight on, 

'Till the victory we have won. 
In every clime, the sun shall shine 

On our people proud, happy and free ; 
Far and near, without dread and fear. 

They may travel on land and sea. 



A FAREWELL TO ERIN. 

Farewell to you Erin your green meadows 

and wildwood. 

Fond scenes of childhood, I bid you adieu. 

Wherever I wander, oft-times I will ponder. 

My heart growing fonder. Dear Erin of 

you. 

Chorus. 
I love you old Ireland, Your bogs and your 
mire lands, 
Your old forts and round towers, each 
glen and each glade. 
Your old castle of Blarney, and Lakes of 
Kilarney, 
The most beautiful Island that God ever 
made. 

Farewell to you Erin, your broad valleys 
and mountains. 
The pure crystal fountains that flow at 
their feet; 
Your shamrocks and flowers and green shady 
bowers. 
And that beautiful vale, where the bright 
waters meet. 



O DONT FORGET YOUR YANKEE 
LADS. 

If your sweetheart is a soldier, 

A soldier brave and true. 
Or if he is a sailor lad 

A Bonnie boy in blue; 
He may be fighting on the land, 

In the air or on the sea. 
O! Dont forget your Yankee-lads 

Wherever they may be. 

Chorus. 
They are marching, marching, marching. 

To the music of the band ; 
And soon they will be fighting 

In a far, far distant land. 
And whether he is khaki clad, 

Or sailor lad in blue. 
O! Don't forget those brave young hearts, 

That fight for me and you. 

Write him a cheerful letter. 

For you know he will be glad 
To hear from friends and sweetheart. 

From sister, ma and dad. 
There will be weary days of waiting. 

Before the deadly fray. 
O! Don't forget your Yankee lads. 

When they are far away. 



THE BRAVE SCOT. 

From her mountain sides and valleys wide, 

Down to her seagirt shore 

old Scotland is mourning for her sons 
Who will return no more; 

Many of her kilted lads 
In battle have been slain; 

The glory of their noble deeds 
Will adorn the halls of fame. 

Chorus. 
With their bagpipes gayly scurling. 

O'er the top the Scots go hurling. 
They know no fear, fleet as the deer. 

They race o'er No Man's land; 
Around about them shells are bursting. 

With their bayonets fiercely thrusting. 
The Scot is in his glory. 

When fighting hand to hand. 

Here's to each lad in Tartan clad. 

Proud of his ancient clan; 
There is no braver soldier. 

Than this fearless Scottish man 
It will bs told in song and story. 

How they won their way to glory 
In the battle fierce and gory. 

Where their blood in streamlets ran. 



OUR SOLDIER'S WELCOME HOME. 

Back from the field of battle, where the b g 
guns roar and rattle. 
Our soldiers are returning to their sweet- 
hearts, friends and home. 
From across the stormy sea, where they have 
fought for you and me. 
So that we should not bend the knee to 
any foreign throne. 
Chorus. 
Meet them with old glory and a big brass 
band. 



Don't forget to shake each brave young 
soldier by the hand ; 
Fill the air with joyful noise, let your cheers 
to heaven rise, 
A welcome to our soldier boys, marching 
home, marching home. 

Let your whistles blow and church bells ring. 
Have the children all turn out and sing. 
Make this welcome to our soldiers boys 
the grandest ever known. 
Along the streets in thousands throng. 
To cheer them as they march along. 

With banquet, music, wine and song, give 
them a welcome home. 



FAITHFUL AND TRUE. 

You have grown old and gray, my dear. 

The bloom has left your cheek; 
The clear sweet voice in which you sang 

Is now grown hoarse and weak. 
The sparkle of youth has left your eyes, 

I miss your old time smile. 
Oh would that, that I coud bring them back, 

If only for a while. 

Chorus. 
Faithful and true you have been my dear, 

Down through the long long years 
Sharing my hope and joy my dear. 

Sharing my sorrow and tears; 
The heart in your bosom beats fondly for me. 

Though you have grown feeble and old, 
I love you dear wife, I will love you for life 

'Till my form dear, the grave shall enfold. 

Many years have past and gone my dear. 

Since you and I first met. 
Sweet memories of that joyful day 

I never shall forget. 
When I clasped your hand in greeting dear. 

When I gazed into your eyes; 
The love born at that meeting. 

Is a love that never dies. 



A RANTING ROVING LADDIE. 

I'm a ranting roving laddie. 

Like my father used to be. 
With other laddies like myseV 

I gang out on a spree ; 
At every picnic, dance or fair 

You'll find me with the laddies there. 
My silver and love I share 

With the lassies gay and free. 
Chorus. 
I'm a ranting roving laddie 

Like my father used to be, 
I love to hold a bonny blooming lassie on 
my knee. 

To kiss, and hu2 and squeeze her, 

how I love to tease her, 

1 love the bonny lassies 

And the lassies all love me. 

I'm a ranting roving laddie 

Like my father i sed to be. 
My mother gives me many a hint 

That married I should be; 
I love the lassies dark and fair 

And wi»h them all my love I share. 
But a wife would be an awful care. 

To a roving lad like me. 



I'M COIN- BACK TO TENNESSEE. 



THE LADIES OF HELL. 



I am goin' back to Tennessee, 

When the sweet magnoha am m bloom. 
There is a little dusky girl there waits for me. 

She promised she would marry me in June. 
How the bones will rattle and the banjos 
ring. 

For my wedding am goin' to be swell, 
All the colored folks will dance and sing. 

When I marry my Sweet Annabel le. 

Chorus. 

I long 'o go back to Tennessee, 

And her fields of golden corn. 
To the little dusky girl that waits for me. 

In the place where I was born. 
She's the sweetest girl in my home town 

And I know she loves me well. 
She's not real dark, just a chocolate brown, 

She is my own Sweet Annabelle 

I am going back to Tennessee, 

For there I never knew a care; 
The white folks have been kind to me. 

But I love my home down there. 
The old banjos and the dear old songs 

We darkies love so well. 
We will dance all night in the bright moon- 
light, 

When I marry my sweet Annabelle. 



My laddy is away with a Highland brigade, 

And well I remember the last words he said, 

^'ou will be proud of me lassie, I will do 

my bit well. 

I am going to be one of the ladies of hell. 

Chorus. 

I love my laddie in the highland brigade, 
I know my laddie loves his wee Scottish 

maid; 
When he will return O what tales he 

will tell. 
Of the fierce bayon^' charge with the 

Ladies o hell. 

There is no soldier more brave than the 
Highland brigade, 

Through mud, slush and water, they gallant- 
ly wade; 

Though many brave kilties in fierce battle fell. 
They are still fighting bravely those lad- 
ies of hell. 

How they climb from the trenches at the 
word of command. 
Like wild deer they bound o'er the battle 
scarred land. 
Above the noise of the big guns, and burst- 
ing of shells. 
Can be heard the loud cheers of the lad- 
ies of hell. 



DOWN IN OLD MEXICO. 

We have always done our level best 

To treat ihose Mexicans right, 
We do not seek their conquest, 

We do not want to fight. 
To catch the murderous bandit 

Through their country we would go. 
And that is why our soldier boys 

Went down to Mexico. 

Chorus. 

The stars and stripes are flying high, 

As our soldiers bid their friends good-bye; 

Brave and strong they are marching on. 
Off to the war they go. 

It is another fight for liberty. 

They are going to set those people free 

From cruel strife and misery, 
Down in old Mexico. 

In dealing with our neighbors. 

We have used the Golden Rule, 
And through trying situations 

Our statesmen have kept cool. 
We believed Carranza was our friend. 

But he proved to be our foe. 
For he fired upon our soldier boys, 

Down in old Mexico. 

Come rally to old Glory boys. 

That flag of liberty. 
It has never yet been conquered. 

On the land or on the sea; 
Those cruel Mexican tyrants. 

We are going to overthrow 
And establish peace and happiness, 

Down in old Mexico. 



I LOVE A SAILOR IN BLUE. 

Why all the cheers for the soldier boy, 

Is not Jack not as brave as he. 
He mans the ships guns. 

And drives off the Huns 
That attack our commerce on the seas. 

Brave, loyal and true 
Are our sailors in Blue, 

Patrolling the seas day and night. 
Afloat or ashore they are true to the core. 
Ever ready for frolic or fight. 

Chorus. 

I love a sailor in blue, to me he will ever 
be true. 
When far out to sea, he is thinking of me; 
Every night in my dreams, my brave sailor 
I see, 
O how my heart longs for the day. 
When my Jack he will come home to stay 
And make me his wife, his dear shipmate 
for life. 
And never again sail away. 

Why all the praise for the soldier boy, 

Is Jack not as brave as he. 
He mans the troopship on its dangerous trip 

That carries our men o'er the sea; 
'Tis our sailors in blue that form the gun 
crew. 

Keeping watch on the deck day and night. 
With true steady aim they win glory a 
fame. 

When the enemy ship heaves in sight. 



PASSING THE BAR. 

My friends if you will listen, 

A story I will tell. 
It is about this cursed alcohol; 

That drags men down to hell. 
It turns a man into a brute, 

And makes his family poor, 
I am sure wi*h me, you will agree 

To close the Bar-room door. 
1 saw a mother and her boy 

Stand at a cattle-bar, 
I heard her gentle pleading words 

As he gazed off afar. 
Her boy had caught the wander-lust 

Which filled her with alarm. 
He broke his dear Old Mother's heart. 

Tha* day he left the farm. 
My boy, "Don't drink that alcohol", 

"It will destroy your mind. 
And in this busy world of ours 

You will be left behind," 
Beware! My boy of the first small glass; 

All drunkards start with one 
It is but a step to many more 

When your self-respect is gone. 
I saw that young man at a bar. 

With its mirrors and bright light. 
I saw him drink glass after glass. 

Until late into the night. 
And when his money was all gone. 

And he could not pay for more. 
The bar-man hustled him along. 

And pushed him out the door. 
I saw him stagger on his way; 

He had lost all sense of right. 
His course and vulgar language. 

Filled all those who passed with fright, 
I saw his young wife waiting there 

I know her heart was sore. 
For I saw the anguish in her face 

As he approached the door. 
I saw his child lie cold in death, 

I saw his weeping wife; 
Where is that promise that he made? 

"To cherish her for life?" 
He has broken all his marriage vows. 

His promises were vam. 
He could not pass that bar-room door. 

He is drinking there again. 
I saw him before a Justice Bar, 

Charged with an awful crime; 
He does not remember what occurred. 

He was mad drunk at the time. 
The nature of his cruel deed 

I cannot here detail 
It is the same old story 

From the Bar-room to the jail. 
I heard the Judge pass sentence. 

He must go to jail for life. 
I saw his tearful parting. 

From his broken-hearted wife. 
He is now behind those prison-bars 

Where there are many more. 
Who in their day like this young man. 

Passed through a bar-room door. 
My friends there is but one sure way. 

To help the drinking man. 
We must stop the sale of liquor 

In the bottle, glass or can. 
We must close down the breweries. 

We must stop the whiskey still. 
We must fight it through the ballot-box, 

'Till John Barley Corn we kill. 

_8_ 



THE PRIDE OF LOUGH-RAE. 

There's a dear little town in Old Ireland 

Three thousand miles over the sea 
There's a sweet little colleen that lives there 

And I know she is waiting for me. 
There's no handsomer girl in all Ireland 

She IS witty light-hearted and gay, 
She's a real Irish fairy, is my darling Mary 

The pride of the town of Lough-Rae. 

Chorus. 

I'm going back to old Ireland, and Mary 

Tomorrow the ship sails away. 
And the dollars I've saved will come handy 

For a nice little home they will pay, 
The boys and the girls will be singing, 

As they dance their wild jigs light and gay 
And the wedding-bells sure will be ringing 

For my Mary the pride of Lough-Rae. 

How happy we will be, me and Mary 

In a neat little place of our own 
My friends sure will always be welcome 

It will be a real Irishman's home, 
There will b; plenty to eat, and a bottle to 
treat 

For a right hearty welcome I will pay. 
You will be happy and free 

While you stay there with me 
And my Mary the pride of Laugh-Rae. 



THE MARCH ON PROHIBITION. 

We will make this glorious nation 

The pride of all creation. 
We are going to keep on fighting 

Until every state goes dry. 
Our cause is surely gaining 

New recruits we are obtaining, 
Tho' the mighty liquor interests 

Our efforts may defy. 

Chorus. 

You will hear those Breweries sighing. 

When John Barley-corn is dying, 
There will be less crime and misery 

When he is dead and gone. 
How the rum seller will grumble. 

When they hear that mighty rumble 
Of our great prohibition Army 

Marching on, marching on. 

Come rally to our temperence cause 

And help change those liquor laws. 
And close up every bar-room 

In the city and the town. 
And when we have succeeded 

No more liquor will be tjeeded, 
The brewers and distillers then 

Will close their factories down. 

Come you men of every na*ion. 

Whatever be your station. 
We want you to assist us 

To destroy this liquor curse. 
We will improve your situation, 

By reducing the taxation, 
When we get the greedy brewer's hand 

Out of the public purse. 



MURDER! 

We were a* the front in Belgium, 

All day it was a hell. 
For *he Germans stormed our trenches. 

With a hail of shot and shell 

We were short of ammunition. 
So we could not well reply. 

We possessed our souls in patience. 
Waiting for a new supply. 

The sun went down and night came on 

When the German fire did cease 
Some of our boys laid down to rest. 

While others talked a' ease 
When suddenly from the German lines 

There came a rumbhng sound 
They were charging on our trenches 

And they fairly shook the ground. 

There was not a coward among us 

We were a brave and gallant band 
The signal ran along our lines 

To fight them hand-to-hand 
Tho' tremendously outnumbered 

Wc withs'ood their fierce attack 
And with our trusty British steel 

We forced the Germans back. 

Among our wounded prisoners 

Was a fair-haired German boy. 
He would not have his wound dressed 

But begged to let "him" die. 
We openend up his tunic 

And his bleeding breast laid bare 
That young soldier was a female 

A woman young and fair. 

She told us how her lover 

In that fight had bravely died. 
We went out and found his body. 

And we laid it by her side 
She gazed lovingly upon that form 

From whence all life had fled. 
Upon those lips she pressed one kiss 

And then laid backward, Dead! 

We buried them together 

In the darkness of that nigh*, 
And every man around their grave 

Prayed God to end the fight, 
For we thought of wives and sweethearts 

Whom we had left far away, 
Alas! Our prayes were in vain 

The fight went on nsxt day. 

Man's selfish greed for weal'h and power 

Has filled the world with woe. 
For where upon this cruel earth? 

Did human blood not flow? 
Throughout the world's long history, 

We find this bloody stain 
For o'er the entire human race 

There hangs the "Curse of Cain." 

We pray to God that this may be 

The world's last bloody fight. 
Grant to the nations of the earth, 

A clearer sense of right. 
From wickedness and tyranny 

The human race release 
And give to the people of the world 

An everlasting peace. 



BROWN RESURRECTION 
THE DRUNKARD'S DREAM. 

Brown was a good husband and father 
When he left beer and whiskey alone. 

But when drunk he would fight with his 
neighbors. 
And neglec* both his farm and his home. 

Many hours he would spend in the rum shops 
In the city, some three miles away. 

Forgetting his cattle and farm crops 
To drink beer and whisky all day. 

One cold stormy day in the winter 
When a blizzard was raging outside. 

The thirst for strong drink came upon him. 
So the cold wintry blasts he defied. 

Tho' the piercing north-winds made him 
shivver. 
And the way to the city was long. 
Through snow drifts he plowed and he 
stumbled. 
For the drink-demon beckoned him on. 

Cold and tired he arrived in the city, 
Straight way to the bar-room he went. 

There he drank that vile stuff they call 
whisky. 
Until all his good money was spent. 

It was late he staggered off homeward. 
But he had not gone far on his way 

When info a snow drift he tumbled. 
There dead drunk and helpless he lay, 

A party of searchers there found him 
The carried him back to the • town. 

Where a doctor by hard work revived him 
And brought back the life to Poor Brown. 

H-s friends with the best of intentions 
Some liquor to Brown they would give. 

But he spoke in a voice most determined, 
"Not a drop. Boys, as long as I live." 

He told them as he lay in the snow-drift 
An angel took him by the hand, 

And upwards and onward she led him 
Thro' scenery most lovely and grand. 

H" heard much sweet music and singing 
.'^ s they came to a large golden ga'e, 

St. Peter came forward to greet them 
And quickly decided Browns' fate. 

He recited to him all his misdeeds. 

His life's history he seemed to know well. 

A.ddressing the Angel he told her, 

"To lead Mr. Brown, down to Hell." 

As their steps they retraced, this good Angel 
Told Brown she would guide him back 
home 

If he would promise to be a good Christim, 
And leave Beer and Whisky alone. 

His friends seem to think Brown's experience 
Had somewhat affected his head. 

But Brown is still keeping that promise 
That he made to the angel when dead. 

The moral of this simple story 

To all drinking men I would tell. 

There is no room for drunkards in heaven. 
All such are sent down to hell. 



LOVE ETERNAL. 

If the Glorious sun should darken 

And grow cold. 
And all life upon this earth 

Would be no more, 
My spirit Love, thy spirit 

Would enfold. 
I would love thee as dearly 

As before. 
The spark that thou hast kindled 

Within me. 
In my soul, my love, will ever burn 

For thee 
For I would love thee, I would love thee 

Evermore 
I would love thee through 

Eternity. 
For I would love thee, I would love thee 

Evermore 
I would love thee through 

Eternity. 

When in a last embrace thy form 

To mine I hold 
As the waters in the rivers cease 

To flow 
As the last dim rays of sunshine 

We behold 
And the mighty seas and oceans 

Solid grow 
It would matter not my dear 

To you and me 
For my spirit love will ever 

Dwell with thee 
For I would love thee, I would love thee 

Evermore, 
I would love thee through 

Eternity. 
For I would love thee, I would love thee 

Evermore, 
I would love thee through 

Eternity. 

If our loving souls should wander 

Into space 
And we leave this cold dark world 

Far behind 
We together Love the Judgement Throne 

Would face. 
For we would wander on 'till Heaven 

We should find. 
If the Angels should take 

Thy spirit in 
And I was compelled my love. 

To part from thee 
Should my soul for evermore 

Reside in Hades. 
I would love thee through 

Eternity, 
I would love thee, I would love thee 

Evermore, 
I would love thee through 

Eternity. 



THE SONG THAT APPEALS TO 
THE HEART. 

Burns has sang of banks and his braes 
And Moore of his Lakes of Kilarney, 

There are songs of the beautiful woodland 
and stream. 
Of the fairies, shillalah and Blarney. 

There is a song that will always 



Appeal to your heart. 
It matters not where you may roam. 

Of the world's sweet music 
It now forms a part. 

It is that song of Home, Home, Sweet 
Home. 

Chorus. 

From the Nor*h to the South, 

From the East to the West, 
It matters not where you may roam. 

The heart will respond within each human 
breast. 
When they hear that sweet song 

Home Sweet Home. 

You may wander far, far from your dear 
native land. 
And upon you Dame Fortune may frown 
Surrounded by strangers, you are lonely and 
sad 
With no shelter in which to lie down. 
What fond memories awake. 

When you hear that sweet song, 
Fho' the singer to you be unknown. 
To the wanderer's ear there is no music 
so dear. 
As that song of Home, Home, Sweet Home. 

You may be a brave soldier 

On some battle scarred front. 
Where the fight has raged fiercely all day 

Amidst the cannon's loud roar. 
And the bursting of shells. 

You have thought of your home far away, 
WK^n in the trenches at night 

With other brave men. 
Whose courage may be questioned by none. 

There are tears in each eye. 
When some brave soldier boy 

Sings that song of Home, Home, Sweet 
Home. 



OLD PALESTINE IS FREE. 

To Christian and Jews, proclaim the news. 

The Holy Land is free. 
Great Britain's sons with British guns. 

Compelled the Turks to flee. 
Democracy has spoken, 

Mohammed's rule is broken, 
Jerusalem's gates lie open. 

Old Pale.stine is free. 

Chorus. 

O Palestine, O Palestine, 

Thy land is once more free; 
Infamous Turks no longer lurks 

Within thy boundary. 
Thine ancient Jewish nation. 

Most sacred of creation, 
Wilh holy inspiration. 

Will fulfill her destiny. 

Two thousand years of blood and tears 

Has been the Fkbrew's fa*e; 
Compelled to wander o'er the earth. 

He has met with scorn and hate. 
As soldiers they have fought and bled, 

Wherever freedom's banner's led; 
Let their flag now to the breeze be spread. 

Old Palestine is free. 



10 



THE PARTING SONG. 
There's a custom much in use 

In my old land 
When a friend across the sea 

Is gomg to roam. 
His neighbors gather round 

To shake his hand, 
And bid him not forget 

His dear old home, 
^^hen the flowing glass 

Is passed around to all, 
Their voices join to sing 

That sad refrain 
And from many eyes 

The 'ears b^gin to fall, 
Singing God be with you 

'Till we meet again. 

Chorus. 
God be with you 'till we meet again 

And may he guide your good ship 
Safely o'er the main. 

Where ever you may roam, don't forget 
your friends at home, 
God be with you 'till we meet again. 
He finds it hard to bid his friends Good-bye, 

But it grieves him more, to leave his 
sweetheart dear. 
He whispers to his darling, "Not to cry!" 

And with words of love he tries her heart 
to cheer 
When many miles from shore his ship has 
gone 

Upon her storm-swept deck he will remain 
For the breezes seem to bring, that parting 
song, 

God be with you 'till we meet again. 
You may make new friends 

Where ever you may go. 
Fair maidens may be found 

In every land. 
But you won't forget those friends 

You used to know. 
Or the girl to whom 

You've pleged 
Your heart and hand. 

New friends will kindly greet you 
Day by day 

But ever in your memory 
will remain, 

Your sweetheart and those friends 
So far away, 

God be with them 'till we meet again. 

THE LASSIE IN THE KILT. 

Have ye seen the Yankee lassie 

In her high boots and her kilts, 
I tell ye she's a bonnie sight to see. 

While some of them have limbs 
That are so beautifully built. 

There are others just as skinny as could b?. 
All the laddies have gone daffy 

O'er the lass that wears the kilt. 
While the old folks greets her styles. 

With jeers and laughter. 
Every laddie like his daddy. 

Kens how his lassie's built. 
Every lassie kens what her wee lad is after. 
The laddies and the lassies 

Will play the same old game. 
No matter if her dress be short or long. 

For the courting of a bonnie lass. 
Will always be the same, 

Tho' the old folks will complain, 
And say it's wrong. 



DARLING NORINE. 

To wed a sweet maid I'm inclining. 

She has cheeks like the wild Irish rose. 
Her eyes like two diamonds are shining. 

No queen could more gracefully pose, 
She was born in the town of Tralee, 

Where we spent many a happy long day. 
When she sailed for this Land of the Free, 

It was on the same ship myself sailed away. 
Chorus. 
O darling Norine, my Irish Queen, 

It is yourself sure has stolen my heart. 
If you will be my wife, I will love you for 
life. 

There is nothing on earth can us part. 
When you name the day, love we will sail 
away 

And visit old friends in Tralee, 
Then back over the foam we will sail ; 
our home 

In this beautiful Land of the Free. 

It was down where the great vines were 
twining. 

My Norine was there by my side. 
The bright silvery moon sure was shining. 

When I asked her to be my sweet bride. 
She said yes with a smile most entrancing. 

Her voice was sweet music to me. 
The love-light in her eyes sure was dancing 

When I kissed my sweet girl from Tralee. 



DOWN WITH GERMANY. 

For forty years those Germans 

Have planned this bloody fight. 
They have set aside their treaties 

And ignored all sense of right. 
They have made war 

On women and children. 
And sank our ships at sea 

Whilst our flag floats high, our baUle cry 
Will be, "Down with Germany". 

Chorus. 
We will rally to the British Flag, 

Where ever we may b:. 
We will fight benealh that banner 

On the land and on the sea 
Her sons are always ready. 

When they hear their county's call 
Ready for the fight, where they know it's right 

And for freedom stand or fall. 

Those Germans sought, to rule the world. 

Like the Romans in their day. 
But the freedom-loving Briton, has blocked 
them on their way. 
They are in the field, and will not yield 
*7 ill they gain the victory 

It is freedom's fight, against the tyrant's 
might. 
So it is, "Down with Germany". 

Those moments of ancient art 

Which have stood the test of time 
Have been ruthlessly demolished 

By those cowards from the Rhine; 
They have lied and spied 

And the world defied 
With their cruel treachery 

In every land they have shown their hand 
So it's, "Down with Germany." 

11 



WHERE 



THE SCOTCH 
GROWS. 



THISTLE 



I have left dear Old Scotland 

A long ways behind me. 
It's fond recollections 

I will ever re'ain 
There is one link that binds me there 

More than all others 
'Tis a love of a lassie, 

My own Bonnie Jane. 
Chorus. 
The Irishman loves his green little shamrock. 

The Englishman loves his sweet-scented 
rose. 
But I love my Bluebell, my Bonnie Scotch 
Bluebell 

And I long to be back 
Where the Scotch thistle grows. 

My mind wanders back 

To the scenes of my childhood 
And those sweet gentle voices, 

I hear them again 
I remember those rambles 

We would take thro' the wildwood 
Where I picked the bright flowers 

For my own Bonnie Jane. 

How we sang the old songs 

As we roamed thro' the heather 
In fancy I hear now 

Their joyful refrain 
How happy were we 

As we sang them together, 
O, I long to be back 

With my own Bonnie Jane. 

The friends I have made here 

Are surely kind hearted. 
But in my memory. 

My old friends will ever remain 
When I think of my lassie 

From whom I have parted 
I long to go back 

To Old Scotland again. 

I AM CALLING DEAR SAVIOR TO 
THEE. 

I am bound for that Eden above 

My Savior is awaiting me there 
You may share in his bountiful love 

And forget all your troubles and care. 
His love he refuses to none. 

To all sinners, salvation is free. 
I hear his voice calling me home, 

I am comming Dear Saviour to Thee. 

Chorus. 
I am coming Dear Saviour to Thee, to Thee, 

From sin O I long to be free. 
I have left the old life 

And am bound for the new 
And I want every sinner to come with me too. 

There is just the same welcome 
For me and for you, 

I am coming Dear Saviour to Thee. 

sinners come join me today 
And start for that beautiful land 

Dont mind what the scoffers may say. 
Just tell them for Jesus you stand. 

1 know he waits, there by the throne 
With a welcome for you and for me, 

I hear his voice calling me home, 
I am coming Dear Saviour to Thee. 

12 



SWEET EVELEEN. 

'Twas a bright summer day, 

When I mounted my wheel. 
And in*o the country 

I quietly did steal 
I could scent the wild flowers, as I rode along. 

And the birds filled the air 
With sweet music of song. 

I had grown quite weary, 
Having had a long ride 

When I came to a cottage 
Close by the road-side 

It was smothered with roses 

And Ivy so green 

It was there that I first met 
My sv/eet Eveleen. 

Chorus. 

Sweet Eveleen, Oh you are my queen 
All thro' the night love, of you I dream, 

Tho far have I wandered, many fair maids 
have seen. 
There are none would compare 
Wi'h my sweet Eveleen. 

As I gazed on this maiden 

O'er my heart came a change. 

Some subhme influence. 
Made me feel strange 

1 asked for refreshments 
She smiled in return 

As she gave me fresh butter-milk 

Out of her churn 
We chatted quite freely. 

She asked me my name. 
And begged me to call 

When I passed there again 
I promised I would 

For she had won my heart 
I kissed her Good-bye 

And home did depart. 

A year had gone by 

And the summer had come 
I mounted my wheel 

To see her again 
As I rode near the place 

My heart filled with fear 
I saw the old churn. 

But no fair maiden was near 
The roses were gone 

And the weeds growing high 
No cattle now grazed 

In the pasture close by. 
The windows were bare 

The door lay close 
And the silence of death 

O'er the place did repose. 

I stood there bewildered 

'Til a man came along, 
I asked if he knew. 

Where those people were gone. 
I enquired for my sweetheart; 

He sadly replied: 
That the dear little maiden 

Had sickened and died; 
I fled from the place. 

For my heart seemed to reel. 
And back to my home, 

I sadly did wheel ; 
And now when I meet people 

Age-bent and gray, 
I wonder why God 

Called my darling away. 



CHRISTMAS TIME. 

Strolling thro' a city's streets 

As the snow lay on the ground. 
From far and near came to my ear 

A joyful Christmas sound, 
I could hear the children singing 

As the church bells gayly rang 
A dear Old Christmas Carol 

And I listened as they sang. 

Chorus. 

{An old English Carol.) 
Hear we come awhistling 

Among the leaves so green 
Here we com-? a smgmg 

The fairest to be seen 
For it is the Christmas time 

When we travel far and near. 
So God Bless You and send to you 

A Happy New Year. 

And as 1 wandered on my way 

My heart was filled with joy 
1 remember how I sang that song 

When I was but a boy 
From out the brightly-lighted church 

The organ music rang 
And as I stood and listened there 

The choir sweetly sang. 

While Shepards watched their flocks by night 

While seated on the ground 
The angels of the Lord came down 

And glory shown all 'round 
"Fear not", said they, "Almighty dread, 

"And cease your troubled mmd" 
Glad tidings of great joy, we bring 

To you and all mankind. 

So let us all be merry 

At this' joyful Christmas time 
Bring forth the candy, fruit and cake 

Set forth the ale and wine. 
And we will drink a right 'Good Health* 

To friends both far and near, 
A Merry Christmas to them all 

And A Prosperous New Year. 

A CRAZY SUFFRAGETTE. 

When God at the Creation 

To complete his wonderous plan. 
Took from the earth, 

A lump of dirt 
And with it He made a man 

And then he saw how Adam 
Would lead a lonely life 

From out his side 
He took one rib 

And made for him a wife. 

Chorus. 

She was not a suffragette 

Now boys don't you forget 
And go and let her fool you 

If you do, you will regret. 
If you want to get her goat 

Just take a solemn oath, 
i. That you will not cast one vote 

For this crazy suffragette. 

Way down thro the centuries, 

This woman was all right 
She took care of the humble home 



While her man would 
Hunt or fight. 

And though her life was strenuous 
She would never fume or fret 

She was a real woman then 
And not a Suffragette. 

If you take one for a wife 

She will neither wash or cook 
But lay down in a hammock 

With a magazine or book, 
She has no use for babies 

She wants a pug-dog for a pet 
So Boys, be wise, 

AmJ do not wed, 
A crazy Suffragette. 

She has a mannish voice and gait 

A large amount of gall 
She's always ready for debate 

For she thinks she knows it all 
She is going to rule this country 

On that her mind is set. 
All around the town 

Boys, Hoot her down 
This crazy suffragette, 

"GOOD SHIP CHRISTIAN 
ENDEAVOR." 

Sinners are but Sailors 

On life's stormy ocean. 
Many are shipwrecked 

And never reach shore 
If you will sail upon our ship 

You will make a safe trip, 
With Jesus as Pilot 

To guide us safe o'er. 

Chorus. 

With Christian devotion. 

We sail life's stormy ocean. 
The wild waves may dash high 

And the tempest may roar. 
Around Jesus we will gather 

And fear not the weather 
He will pilot us safe 

To That Beautiful Shore 

The name ouf our Good Ship 

Is "Christian Endeavor", 
It has made many trips 

And will make many more. 
Our Captain and Pilot 

Is our loving Savior, 
He will land you all safe 
On that Beautiful Shore. 

You may sail on our "Good Ship" 

Without hesitation, 
Tho her decks may seem crowded. 

There is still room for more. 
It will carry you safe 

To the Port of Salvation, 
You may dwell evermore 

On that Beautiful Shore. 

In that Happy Land, 

There is no grief or sorrow 
You will meet 'here your friends 

Who have gone on before; 
There are no long dark nights, 

You will know no tomorrow. 
But one long joyful day 

On that Beautiful Shore. 



13 



THE FLYING MACHINE. 

An Airman and Sailor are lovers of mine 
They ha^e both popped the question to me. 

My Jimmie he flies thro the air like a bird, 

While my Jack he goes down in the sea. 
I would sooner be flying with Jimmy above. 

Than to go down into Jack's submarine. 
I will soar up above, with the man ihat 
I love 

In his swift moving flying-machine. 

When my bird-man shall make me his bride. 

We will go on our honeymoon ride. 
Up, up thru the clouds, far away from the 
crowds 

We will soar like a bird in the sky. 
I will be his tweet aerial queen. 

It will seem like a beautiful dream 
To soar up above with the man that I love. 

In his swift moving flying-machine. 

I have rode in a carriage and automobile, 

I have rode on a steamboat and train. 
But they do not compare, with the ride in 
the air 

In a high flying swift aeroplane. 
To leave this old earth with its noise an its 
dirt. 

It thrills with delight my whole being, 
To soar up above with the man that I love 

In his swift moving flying-machine. 



WHEN IRELAND GETS HOME 
RULE. 

We love this land of Freedom, but we love 
old Ireland best. 
There's a fondness for the dear old home, 
in every human breast. 
And Erin's sons and daughters, wherever 
they may be. 
Will hope and pray for that glad day, 
when old Ireland will be free. 

Chorus. 

We love her green clad mountains. 

We love her flowing streams. 
Her glens and her sparkling fountains 

That haunts us in our dreams. 
The old home with its turf fire, 

And the dear old village school; 
Sure we all know well. 

Where we would dwell. 
If Ireland had home rule. 

We have won the fight for England on many 
a bloodstamed field, 
For Irishmen to any foe are never :nown 
to yield. 
For this great toll in Irish blood poured out 
on land and sea, 
We will now demand of England's hand 
old Ireland's liberty. 

Old Ireland had her patriots and her war- 
riors brave and bold. 
She also had her traitors who would sell 
that land for gold. 
To think he could take Ireland, Sir Roger 
was a fool. 
He is dead and gone and it wont be long 
Before Old Ireland gets home rule. 

14 



IMMODESTY. 

Modern woman now has donned to ancient 
kilt. 
Wearing boots that reach up, almost to 
her knee. 
While some of them are beautifully built. 
There are others just as homely as can be. 
Men need no longer patronize the stage. 

Or hurry down to buy a vantage seat. 
To the burlesque show which one time 
was the rage. 
They now may see a leg-show on the 
street. 
Go where you will this shameless thing you 
see, 
Those women who all modesty defy. 
We wonder what next season's style will be. 
They will have no clothes at all on bye 
and bye. 
Women are inchned to wear that simple dress. 

That was worn by that ancient lady Eve. 
There are some I do believe would wear 
far less. 
They would even go without those simple 
leaves. 
Woman shows an entire lack of common 
sense. 
When she becomes Dame Fashion's will- 
ing tool. 
The world will laugh and joke at her ex- 
pense. 
And men will look upon her as a fool. 
There was some excuse for Dear Old 
Mother Eve 
I o stroll about the garden without clothes. 
Attired in but a simple leaf, 

She had no knowledge of the sexes we 
suppose. 
There was but one man to gaze upon her 
form. 
There was no other maid for Adam to 
admire. 
It is likely when their children were born. 

They arranged themselves in suitable attire. 
These women who parade in scant attire. 
Will bring upon their sex both sin and 
shame. 
They will kindle an immoral hellish fire. 
And sweet modesty will perish in that 
flame. 

ROLLING IN THE CLOVER. 
When out strolling with your lass, 

A field of clover you should pass; 
Just wait there 'till the moon is clouding over. 

As the darkness gathers 'round. 
Lay her gently on the ground 

And roll your bonnie lassie in the clover. 
Chorus. 
Rolling in the clover on the pleasant sum- 
mer's night, 
Rolling in the clover as fair Luna hides 
her light. 
When the moon is under cover tell your las- 
sie how you love her 
While rolling, rolling over in the clover. 
It is a most enchantmg game 

With its pleasures, fears and pain; 
For courting is the same the world over. 
Every pretty little Miss is waiting for a 

hug and kiss 
From a laddie who will roll her in the 
clover. 



BELGIUM'S APPEAL. 

God have mercy and compassion 

Gaze wi'h pity on our blood-stained land, 
Deliver us from war's oppression 

And stay O God, the cruel Tyrant's hand. 

Refrain. 

O God, O when will this world be free? 

From wickedness and tyranny? 
O let us not implore m vain. 

We ask Thee in Our Savior's name. 

When Jesus suffered on Calvary mountain 

He died from sin 
To set this world free 

And there his blood flowed 
As from a fountam. 

To cleanse the earth 
From strife and m.isery. 

Look down O God upon our ruined home 
And end forever this bloody strife, 

And smile those tyrants upon their throne 
And bring all men to lead a peaceful life. 



WHAT NATION ARE WE FIGHT- 
ING? 

What nation are we fighting? That is what 

we want to know! 
Over there in Europe they claim we have a 

foe ; 
Our Generals are waiting for our Yankee 

fighting men ; 
We tell them they are coming, and the echo 

answers. When? 

Chorus. 

What nation are we fighting, we would like 

to know this much ? 
Are they Teutons, are they Germans, are 

they Prussians, are they Dutch? 
The British, French and Russians, call i.hem 

Germans, is it so? 
Now what nation are we fighting? That is 

what we want to know. 

The stars and stripes flung to the breeze, wave 

proudly o'er our land. 
It does not inspire the brave response, it;: 

glory would demand. 
The patriot light that shone so bright some 

sixty years ago. 
In this dark hour of freedoms fight is burning 

dim and low. 

We do not rally to old Glory, like our fath- 
ers did of yore; 

This great lack of patriotism our country 
must deplore. 

When our soldiers are in Battle and the 
bullets round them hum, 

When the Krupp guns roar and rattle, will 
they know who mans the gun ? 

In camps throughout this nation our soldiers 

are at drill ; 
When they are ready for the fight, who are 

they going to kill ? 
If we are not fighting Germans, who then is 

our foe ? 
Who in blazes are we fighting, that is what 

we want to know? 



I WILL MEET HER WHEN THE SUN 
HAS GONE TO REST. 

I will meet my little darling by the river. 

Beneath that dear old weeping willow tree. 
I never will forsake my love, no never. 

She is the dearest girl on earth to m''. 
When o'er the hills the shades of night are 
creeping. 
And the little birds retire to their nes'. 
When only the shining stars their watch u 
keeping, 
I will meet her when the sun has gone to 
res^ 

Chorus. 

I will meet my little darling by the river. 
In the evening when the sun has gone to 
rest. 
How sweet will be the kisses I will give her 
In that shady nook, the place that we love 
best. 
There we will tell our tales of fond affection. 
As I kiss my love and fold her to my 
breast. 
Beneath the weeping willow tree, so dear 
to her and me, 
I will meet her when the sun has gone to 
rest. 

I will build a cozy cottage by the river. 

Beside that dear old weeping willow tree, 
A fondness for that place will dwell forever. 

In mine and my sweet darling's memory. 
In the evening we will sit beneath the wiHow 

And watch the golden sun sink in the wes". 
As upon my breast her loving head she'll 
pillow, 

I will whisper dear the sun has gone to 
rest. 



THE BANKS OF SWEET DUNDEE. 

I am far away from Scotland, and the lassie 
I love dear. 
And in the silent hovvs of night, 1 dream 
that she is near. 
I E'-em to hear her aentle voice as she bade 
farewell to me. 
You wont forget your friends dear lad, 
when you're far across the s?.a. 

Chorus. 

You wont forget your friends dear lad. 

Wherever you may roam, 
"\'ou won't forget the old folks 

And your dear old Scottish home. 
You won't forget *he promise lad. 

That you have made to me. 
And you wont forget 

When last we met. 
On the banks of Sweet Dundee. 

I am going back to Scotland to her bonnie 
banks and braes. 
And the wee house by the river, where I 
spent my childhood days. 
There is a lassie there with golden-hair, waits 
patiently for me. 
And she will be my bonnie bride on the 
Banks of Sweet Dundee. 



15 



THE OLD RED. WHITE .\ND BLUE. 



THE SWEET QAME OF LO\ING. 



Great Britain did not seek this war. 

But if fighting she must do. 
She has Battle-ships in plenty 

.And men and money too. 
And before this war is over 
She v*-ill make the Kaiser rue. 
That he ever sent his armies 

Into Belgiimi. 

Chorus. 

Old Elngland is wanting soldiers 

She is callmg me and you 
To rally "round her Union Jack 

The old red. white, and blue. 
AX'e will cross the Engli^ channel boys 

.And join our comrades true. 
And drive the Germau Army 

Out of Belgium. 

The Kaiser like Napoleon 

AX'ould fain rule all the world. 
So at Russia. France and Belgivim 

He his mighty legions hurled. 
But the Briton soon got ready 

.And his Union Jack unfurled 
And He's going to drive 

The Germans out of Belgium. 

The Russians, French and Belgians 

Fought valiently we know. 
But they were far outnumbered 

By their merciless German foe. 
So the British quickly mobilized 

.And to their aid did go 
They will dnve the German Army 

Out of Belgium. 

May Success attend Great Bntam 

.And her brave fighting men. 
With Russia. France and Belgium 

This war they %*ill surely %*"in 
The "Black Eagle" cUid "The Turkey' 

Will look like an old wet hen, 
^"hen they drive the German Army 

Out of Belgium 

If they should make a prisoner 

Of his German Majesty 
They will forwaird him to London 

^XTiere they'll treat him courteously 
And then they will transport him 

To that island o'er the sea 
^Tiere once there lived and died 

The great Napoleon. 

The Italians now are in the fight. 

They wWl do their duty well. 
What will become of Germany 

There is no one now can tell. 
But 1 think that Kaiser \^'ilhelm 

To his throne may bid farewell 
^X'hen the .Allied troops 

.Are marching into Berlin. 



\^ hen a girl is in love, you N\-ill find her 
the same. 
\^"hatever her station may be. 
She may dwell in a palace, all lovely and 
grsmd. 
Or a fisherman's hut by the sea. 
No master what nation has given her birth. 
No matter her color or race. 

The same rogui^ his-inkle is seen in her 

eyes, 
e same lovelv snile on her face. 



Th 



Cho 



rhe sweet game of loNnng is cdways the same. 

No matter by whom it is played. 
She may be a dark beauty in some savage 
tnbe. 

Or ie may be a civilized maid. 
The heart in each bosom will throb with 
delight. 

When their lovers appear on the scene. 
The same loving smile will illumine each face. 

In their eyes is that same . roguish gleam. 

If you will travel this world, you will find 

love is the same. 

It matters not where you may roam. 
She may be* dark. red. yellow or white. 

She longs to be queen of a home. 
Tho' customs may di5er in every land. 

In their courting there is nothing new. 
The man who awakens a maiden's first love. 

To him she will ever prove true. 



Printed on L'nion Watermark Paper 



16 



Printed on Union Watermark Paper 



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JUL 73 



N. MANCHES" 
INDIANA 






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